


Red Kryptonite

by mrsfizzle



Series: If She Looked Over [3]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: Putting on a red Kryptonite ring in the wake of his mother's miscarriage was one of the biggest mistakes Clark ever made. This is the conversation he has with his parents when things settle down. Part of "If She Looked Over," but also works as a standalone.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Jonathan Kent, Clark Kent & Martha Kent, Jonathan "Pa" Kent/Martha Kent
Series: If She Looked Over [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856353
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Red Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> It's not necessary to have read If She Looked Over to understand this, but it's absolutely part of that story.
> 
> For those who have, this scene fits between Chapter 43 and the epilogue.
> 
> For those who haven't, this scene fits during 3x2, Phoenix. (There will be a couple of hints that the Kents are closer to Lex than they were in canon.)

Martha squeezed Jonathan's hand before knocking on the door to Clark's room. This was probably going to be the toughest conversation they'd ever had with him.

Clark opened the door, then went back to sit on his bed. Martha sat down on the chair across from Clark, and Jonathan sat beside him on the bed. Martha could see the confusion in her son's eyes. Usually when they had a serious conversation, she sat beside him and his father sat across from him. But he didn't question it.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked.

Clark kept his eyes on his knees. His face was pale, which was rare for him. Guilt was already eating away at him. She'd have to keep that in mind. "I'm okay."

"Can we talk about the last three months?"

"Okay." His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"We'd like to know everything that happened before you put on the red ring. And look at me, please."

He looked up at her, though he was already cringing. "I lied to you when I said I hadn't heard Jor El's voice again. He told me I had to come to him, and he . . . he burned me. He put this scar on my chest, a Kryptonian symbol, and it burned every time I tried to defy him."

She looked down at his chest. "Is it . . ."

"It's gone now."

She nodded slowly. "What else?"

"I wanted to get rid of Jor El. I thought the ship might have the same reaction to Kryptonite that I do, so Pete helped me steal Lionel's Kryptonite key."

Lying and stealing, so far. "Go on."

"You know what happened. I put the key in the spaceship, and it exploded, and you got hurt, and . . . the baby . . ." His eyes grew shiny.

Martha looked over at Jonathan. If she were sitting beside Clark, she would have taken his hand at this point. She didn't really expect Jonathan to do the same, since she hadn't seen him hold his son's hand since he was much younger, but Clark still needed to be comforted. Jonathan seemed to understand her wordless plea; he placed his hand on Clark's back, just beneath his neck.

Clark cleared his throat. "I saw you crying in the hospital, and I felt so bad about it, and even Dad said it was my fault, and all I could think about was getting rid of the pain. I broke into the Torch after school hours and stole Chloe's class ring. Pete and Lana both tried to stop me from leaving, but I didn't listen to them."

Martha nodded. She hadn't expected that part, but she tried not to look surprised.

"After I put on the ring, I stole dad's motorcycle and went to Metropolis. I—I guess you know about most of what I did there, since it was all over the news."

"Okay." She wasn't going to scold him for the things he had done while he was wearing the ring. There was really no point. He hadn't been in control of his actions. His choice, though, had been to put on the ring in the first place. "Apparently we need to talk about lying, stealing, breaking and entering, the way you treat your friends, and red kryptonite. But first, we're going to talk about the baby."

Clark squeezed his eyes shut.

"Look at me, sweetie."

His eyes opened slowly.

She pierced him with her gaze. " _It's not your fault_."

"Y-yes it was. Dad said—"

"I never should have," Jonathan said, rubbing Clark's back. "Your mistake was failing to come talk to us before putting the key in the ship. You had _no idea_ what would happen, and I couldn't have guessed, either. I'm sorry, son. I know I'll have some work to do to earn your trust back."

"No," Clark said. "If I had listened to you, the baby would be alive."

Martha's brow furrowed. "That might be true. But that doesn't make it your fault. It was an accident."

"But I could have prevented it."

"You could have, if you had known. So could I, if I had known. But _you_ _didn't know_. And neither did we. That's what an accident is." She leaned forward and took his hand herself. "It's. Not. Your. Fault."

His breath hitched, but he nodded.

"Okay." She squeezed his hand and let go, sliding back in her chair and hardening her expression. "Let's talk about lying."

A single tear rolled down Clark's cheek, though to his credit, he kept his eyes on Martha.

"I know you can't be always honest with your friends about yourself, or about your secrets. But we're your parents. We're on your side, and we're always going to be here to help you. It's never okay for you to lie to us. I don't care why you thought you were doing it, you're never protecting us by lying. Your secrets are already dangerous for all of us—that's something we live with every day, and we wouldn't trade it for anything. But when you hold back information from us, you're putting us in more danger."

He nodded. She could see in his eyes that he was starting to break, and it broke her heart, but she had a long way to go.

"As your parents, we need to be able to trust your word. We don't lie to you, and we expect you to show us the same respect and honesty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Another tear fell, and Jonathan slid his hand up to the back of Clark's neck.

"Good." She took a deep breath. "We've talked about the stealing and breaking and entering before, but I guess we need to go over it again."

"No, I know—"

" _Yes_ , Clark."

He flinched.

She kept her voice harsh for the next part. "You stole your father's motorcycle under the influence of red kryptonite, so we won't talk about that right now. You stole from Lionel because you thought you didn't have any other option—because you were lying to us and keeping things from us, but we've already talked about the lying, so we'll let that one go. But stealing from _Chloe?_ Really, Clark? Did you even think about how that might affect her?"

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked.

"You have a month to replace her class ring. Even if you have to get a part time job to do it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Good. That brings me to how you treat your friends."

His breath hitched in a quiet sob. He looked down, but she didn't make him look up at her. Not yet.

"Yes, you have to lie to your friends to protect them from your secrets. But aside from that, you _will_ treat them with respect. Stealing from Chloe is bad enough, but you asked Pete to help you steal from Lionel. I don't like to hear about you breaking the law, but if you feel like you don't have a choice, you will not get Pete involved. Or any of your other friends."

"O-okay."

She softened her voice just a bit. "And sweetheart, you need to stop what you've been doing to Lana. If you're going to be with her, be with her. If you're not, stop leading her on, and let her go."

That broke the floodgates. He lowered his head, crying.

This time, she knew the tears weren't from her lecture, at least not primarily. They were the result of the circumstances: the terrifying, painful decision he had to make. She wanted nothing more than to join him in his tears, to sit beside him on the bed and hold him and tell him everything would be okay, but she needed to get through this part first.

So she waited a minute, for his tears to slow. When they did, his shining seafoam eyes looked up at hers. She was sure she was going to break before she could finish this talk, but she had to finish it.

"Look at me, Clark." She waited until he did. "You will never knowingly put on a red kryptonite ring again."

"I won't."

"Because of your powers, you're getting away with bank robbery and multiple accounts of assault. This time, we're letting you. If it happens again, you're going to turn yourself in."

"But . . . then I'd have to go to prison."

"That's what happens when you rob banks and assault people. _You go to prison_."

He swallowed, but nodded.

"You know you hurt Lana by running away, and you hurt a lot of people because of what you did while you were wearing that ring. But did you ever stop to think about how much you hurt us?"

His eyes widened.

"You saw us crying for the baby. Do you think we cried any less for you?"

"I—"

"The baby was dead, and we thought Lex was, too—I'm sure you knew about that—but you didn't even stay long enough for me to comfort myself with the thought that I still had one son remaining. You left your father and me completely alone, completely desperate, and without help to carry out the basic things we needed to do to survive, so that we lost our home. You _chose_ that. You _chose_ to run away from us and let us grieve for you, and worry about you, and hurt over you."

"I—I just felt so powerless."

" _How do you think we felt, Clark?_ "

He flinched, and tears spilled over his eyes again as he hung his head.

"No, look at me. Now." She knew it would be difficult for him to look her in the eye while she said the next part, but she needed to be able to see when she was getting through to him, so she didn't hurt him too much. "We had _nothing_ left. The baby was dead. Lex was dead, at least as far as we knew. You were alive, but you wouldn't come home to us. I know you called a couple of times, and we _begged_ you to come home—" her voice cracked, and tears rolled down her cheeks as well, but she kept her eyes on Clark's— "but you wouldn't. You let us suffer. For three months, you _let us._ "

"I'm so sorry." His shoulders shook with sobs.

"Are you really so blind that you've never known how much we love you? Have we failed you so miserably that you really had _no idea_ how much it would hurt us to lose you?"

"You—you didn't fail . . ."

"That's so much worse, Clark. You _knew_ how much we love you, you _knew_ how much it would hurt us, and what, you just . . . didn't care?" A fresh set tears fell down her face. "Day after day, Clark. We waited for you. We worried for you. We hurt for you, agony you'll never be able to imagine unless—God forbid—you lose a child."

"No . . . I didn't—"

"Which one was it, Clark? Did you not know? Or did you not care?"

Clark's shoulders shook with sobs, and then he did something she'd never seen him do. He slid forward off the bed, slowly knelt onto the floor, and lowered his head to her knees. He wept bitterly, and his tears soaked through her jeans.

Martha looked up at Jonathan, and the startled empathy in his eyes mirrored what she felt. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached down to run her fingers through her son's hair. "Baby . . ."

" _I'm sorry_." His sobs had become frantic, nearing the point of wailing.

She shifted her hand down a little, rubbing his shoulders.

"I knew. But I tried to drown out the knowledge, because I couldn't imagine how you would still want me after . . . after I killed your real son or daughter."

" _Real?_ " She brought her hand around to the side of his face, cradling his cheek and lifting his head so he had to look up at her. "Baby, what do you think you are?"

He continued to sob, shaking his head.

"Do you think we're not your real parents?"

"I . . . that's not—"

"We fed you and changed you. We woke up in the middle of the night and held you every time you screamed after a nightmare, and we brought you to school every day and helped you with your homework, and we taught you how to ride a bike. We dried your tears and we laughed with you and we played with you, and we sang to you on your birthdays—sweetheart, what do you think it _means_ to be a family?"

His eyes closed, and he let his face rest in her hand.

"Even if I'd never done any of those things. Even if I'd found you when you were eight, or thirteen, or if we hadn't met until you became an adult, you'd still be my son. Family isn't just blood; it's a choice we make. We call you son, you call us Mom and Dad. You live under this roof, and when you move out, this will be where you come back for Christmas and Thanksgiving. Your father and I will stand with you on your wedding day, your kids will call me grandma, and every time they come to visit, I'll load them up with more cookies than you'd ever let them have at home . . ."

His shoulders shook with something that was between crying and laughter, but his lips had turned up in something like a smile.

" . . . And we'll love you no matter what you do. No matter how much you hurt us." She wiped away his tears with her fingers. "Clark, I know meeting Jor El has been confusing, a-and scary, but . . . is that the real reason you ran away? Because you weren't sure if—if you belonged in our family?"

He hung his head, and she knelt down on the floor beside him, wrapping both arms around him. Jonathan joined her a moment after him, holding onto his son from the other side.

"No," Clark said softly. "I don't know if that was part of why I ran—but no. I don't doubt that. Not now." He took a deep breath. "I can't . . . _sorry_ isn't enough."

"It doesn't have to be." Martha smiled. "You're already forgiven."

"But . . . I can't make it up to you. I can't fix this."

"Maybe not, but we're going to need you, son," Jonathan said softly. "To get back on our feet."

Clark nodded. "I'll be here, Dad."

"I want you to stay on the property until school starts." Martha figured that was a kinder way of phrasing the fact that he was grounded. "And when school does start, you need to come home right after school every day."

"Okay, Mom."

She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "We love you."

His face brightened into the grin she'd lain awake missing every night for the last three months. "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> I know I mostly skimmed over Clark's return to his parents in ISLO. There were many reasons for that. For one, the series is meant to be Lex-centric. For another, Clark's return to his parents is canon, and I assume it would be much the same in my story as in the show. But the biggest thing is that it just didn't fit—I was trying to do too many other things with the ending, and it felt like there were enough serious parenting conversations in the story as it was.
> 
> If I was writing this outside of the ISLO universe, though, Martha would have additionally scolded Clark for ditching Lex's wedding when he was supposed to be the best man.


End file.
